


Brotherly Advice

by tqpannie



Series: Last Drabble Writer Standing [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron gets a bit of advice from Charlie and Bill</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherly Advice

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Simons Flower for the beta

I’m not nervous.

I’m just waiting for Hermione to come home so I can propose to her.

I was nervous. I mean, I think she’ll say yes, but you never know with Hermione.

I went to see Bill and Charlie first—they were drinking Firewhisky in honor of Fred.

Fred would appreciate the humor in my proposing to Hermione on the anniversary of our first kiss since it took the threat of death to get me to do it.

Yes, I know, she kissed me, but you’re missing the point. I’m asking Hermione to marry me.

Bill gave me a bunch of romantic drivel about Fleur until Charlie finally shut him up with a silencing charm and said, “Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty. The right person will always think the sun shines out of your arse.”

I thought about it for a moment and realized that pretty much summed up mine and Hermione’s eleven years together.

I had a shot (or two) with my brothers, and let them call me little Ronniekins without hexing them. When I left them, they were singing about some bloke named Socrates that was permanently pissed.

Now I’m sitting in the kitchen, having a cuppa. The front door of our flat opens, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. I smell her perfume before she reaches the kitchen door.

“Hi ya, Hermione.” My voice cracks as she steps into the kitchen. “Let me get you a cuppa. Rough day?”

“Tiring.” She replies as she rolls her shoulders. “I must have sorted through ninety legal files before finding the exact case I needed to prove my case to the Wizengamot.”

I set her tea in front of her and slid my hands to her shoulder to massage the kinks from her neck.

“I have something for you,” I smile when she moans as I remove my hands from her shoulders. “I want to do this properly.”

Her eyes widen and her breath hitches when I drop to my knees in front of her. I pull the box out of my pocket and hand it to her. Her hands are shaking as she carefully opens the wrapping paper and lifts the lid on the box.

“A wooden spoon?” She stares at me for a moment, looking confused, and then looks back down at the box to find the ring I tied on with a bit of ribbon I found upstairs.

“See.” My voice is thick when I speak and I clear my throat. “I think that I’ve finally got more than the emotional range of a teaspoon and that’s because of you. So I thought you might marry me, make a honest man of me. Will you marry me?”

My heart is pounding so hard I think it might burst from my chest, so I’m totally unprepared when she launches herself at me, knocking me back onto the kitchen floor, her lips crashing down on mine.

When we finally draw back to gather air she breathes the one word I hoped to hear: “Yes.”

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